Jurassic World: Aftermath
by Ravensara
Summary: Loose dinosaurs, bad press, lawsuits, and assistance from an unlikely source.
1. Chapter 1

1

The day was beautiful with a stunning pale blue sky dotted by the occasional white cotton candy cloud and a steady, warm breeze. On the starboard side of a large speeding vessel, on the top observation deck a young man leaned against the rail near the bow. He appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties with longish, straight dark hair that whipped in the wind as he remained still, looking somewhat melancholy as he gazed out at the light chop of the dark ocean. He wore a lightweight grey blue windbreaker with rolled sleeves partially zipped over an oversized, hooded T-shirt in faded orange. His sand-colored cargo pants flapped frantically about his legs over good sweat-wicking sports socks and high-topped hiking shoes. Very few travelers were topside, most of them one level down where snacks and cold beverages could be procured and enjoyed in a climate-controlled area where a handful of high-definition monitors played enticing loops of footage featuring some of the adventures awaiting at their destination.

Adventures that could be had if the park they were heading toward was actually up and running.

Dr. Jonathan Happenstance was huge for a man in his sixties, tall with a bodybuilder's physique, his time in the gym having served him very well over the years. His closely-shorn black hair was frosted a soft, brushed-metal grey, but his features remained youthful, if a little tired looking. He could pass for a man in his early fifties and moved with the slow, easy grace of an elk. As the head scientist of ArtReal Artificial Realities he was well respected by his colleagues if not especially well-known. He stood near the stern of the swiftly coursing passenger yacht staring straight ahead, watching for the dark shape of a landmass as well as keeping an eye on his much younger charge. Beside him stood a man from the island with an Aussie-style wide brimmed hat crushed in his hands, a gold Seiko dress watch on one wrist, his camel-colored linen suit flapping like a flag as he rambled on and on about Jurassic World. John paid him little mind. It was obvious he had been warned not to go into too much detail regarding recent events at the park and was mainly serving to distract the guests. John was fully aware that he would be granted a tour of only the park's highlights, wined, dined, and kept mainly in the laboratories where he could speak science with people of his own education level. It was the kid at the front of the ferry who he counted on to get to the bottom of everything amiss.

Seagulls had trailed them for a while after they'd departed the mainland, and fins in the distance suggested porpoises more than sharks, but the boy's head snapped upward as he stared keenly at a dot slowly growing before them, and Dr. Happenstance knew the kid had detected something no one else on board could, or could yet. Noting a slight difference in the man's posture, Dane Alten, the park representative, squinted beneath a raised palm and mentioned, "Be there soon." John knew that more than mere sight of the island held the young man's attention.

Eyes closed, the youth cast out his consciousness in an ever-widening aura. He felt the bird-like, nervous contentment of nearby sea creatures, the responding curiosity of sensitive small cetaceans, the calm focus of sea turtles, the strangely dream-like perceptions of sharks. His eyes opened to slits as he picked up on a playfulness he had not expected. He smiled as if in reaction to some private joke, and then turned to look at his employer.

John studied the boy's features before allowing his own wide grin to spread. Relief and exhilaration flooded him as the kid bowed his head and let his shoulders shake with a barely suppressed chuckle of delight.


	2. Chapter 2

2

They disembarked onto sunshine glaring off of concrete, brightly colored metal safety rails and large signs featuring multiple languages surrounding them. John lifted his head to scan the horizon, seeking interesting silhouettes, and when he found none he allowed his gaze to drift over carefully shaped, blasted rock, verdant landscaping beyond. He'd assumed it would be uncomfortably humid, but the breeze off the water was delightful. Artificial dinosaur tracks stitched the walkways, acting as guides to various landmarks, and everywhere there were stacks of fresh lumber still fragrant with sap, great stacks of powdered concrete, metal I-beams, empty pallets, and heavy equipment. The park rep, Dane, walked backward before the scientist. "Just had to bring some extra supplies in. It'll all be cleared away soon." Happenstance was well aware that a serious incident at the park had resulted in a mass evacuation of visitors and the deaths of a handful of people—mostly park employees—and the injury of several dozen more. Investigations were allegedly complete, but several lawsuits were still pending.

The only reason the StarNet/ArtReal visit had been approved was because they had offered to assist with restoration efforts as well as learn. StarNet was a para-policing agency trained to deal with anything from an armed, rampaging individual to an all-out terrorist attack. They dealt exclusively with threats to the general public from a wide variety of sources including rare life forms and advanced foreign technologies. ArtReal, the scientific side of the organization, dealt with problem-solving.

The group wandered along pathways until they were directed to a shortcut used by park staff to gain quick access to the main visitors' center. There they were welcomed by the acting head of operations who briefly touched on what efforts had been made to stabilize the many park systems, to isolate the animals that had thus far eluded recapture, and to reinforce existing containment measures. The goal was a safer park, with enhanced features, up and running again at full capacity within the next three months. Dr. Happenstance winced when he heard this, aware that every day without income was a huge loss to operations. Every day the park remained closed, they grew closer to never opening again.

Without actually seeking him, John knew the young man in his care was likely lingering on the outskirts of the crowd, somewhere in the shadows, silently observing, wishing to get past the touristy flash and into the heart of the truth, even if that meant vanishing into the jungle itself. The boy hadn't been under his wing very long. He'd spent the last eleven years traveling the world, learning what he could of it within a short period of time, catching up on all the workings of humanity. It was only in the last ten months that he'd approached the big scientist and admitted all he cared to about his situation, trusting him to keep his secrets.

They were told they'd be issued special badges on lanyards they were to keep with them at all times. "Until every animal is accounted for, we may need to keep track of your whereabouts, so we appreciate your cooperation," they were told by an artificially cheerful young woman in a safari-inspired pants suit. Everyone was handed printed maps of the park with legends clearly indicating which areas were taboo, where restrooms could be found, and which restaurants were still functioning. "Some of our partners," the smiling woman informed them, "were kind enough to keep their establishments running with minimal staff at a reduced cost for those of us still on the island." At first John was surprised by this generous gesture until he realized the individual businesses were losing money, too. Any effort to keep the place on track, even mere aid to the many people working to get things up and running again, was designed to benefit everyone involved. The park's lifeblood was money, and it had to flow if the place was to recover.

The scientists were separated from the Netcops with the elite Quasar Force officers grouped with their uniformed co-workers. John saw that the sullen young man had sided with them instead of his own group and smiled grimly. The boy would find a way to be right where he was needed without anyone telling him where they wanted him or what he ought to be doing.


	3. Chapter 3

3

The ArtReal scientists were led toward the rear of the facility while the Netcops and QForce officers were met by one of the park security specialists. The guy looked young, but the quiet kid pegged him at about thirty-one while the three uniformed specialists with him scanned the group and unanimously settled their gazes on him, the odd man out.

"Excuse me," said a woman with her hair pulled back beneath a flat fronted, ops-style cap. "Are you with the right group?" She asked it like she knew the answer already.

The very casually dressed, disheveled young man slid into a military-style at-ease stance, gazed straight ahead from a head held stiffly high and responded crisply, "Yes, sir."

The woman cocked an eyebrow while some of the Netcops smirked. She stalked toward him with an outstretched hand. "May I see your badge, please?"

Quasar Force Officer Alana Jeffers moved to intercept her. "He's with us," she confirmed, never looking his way. None of the Quasar Force officers were in uniform. They possessed them, but had been instructed not to bring them so as to better tell them apart from their police-like comrades. Alana appeared youthful herself and was in fact only in her late twenties, but she wore conservative casual attire similar to that of her fellow officers while the young man she defended looked more like some kid who'd misplaced his skateboard.

The corporal turned to her superior who acknowledged her look with a very slight nod, but his eyes betrayed his suspicion of the kid. He continued his explanation of where they would be going and what they might encounter, but while his mouth operated on auto-pilot, his mind wondered what sort of trouble the boy might bring.


	4. Chapter 4

4

"Of course the rides are not operating, and no shows are running," the corporal continued as they rode a tram made up of open-sided cars on a quick tour of the main park facility, "but you might be asked to try out a ride once it's fully functional again just to test it, and if you have time you might catch the keepers during feeding times, trying to maintain schedules to minimize stress on the animals." She had chosen to sit beside the young man who seemed so out of place, and she lowered her head and her voice to tell him, "That might be something you'd enjoy."

He scowled and looked away, disinterested in her agenda. He could sense the mosasaurus in its vast inland pool. While it was difficult for him to imagine a satisfactory artificial habitat for such a creature, he could nonetheless sense its astounding patience, the near-trance it lingered in as it waited for what it had come to think of as its feeding time. A part of him wanted to confront the creature directly, and the notion thrilled him, but the animal was safely contained, content, and therefore an intrusion from him was completely unnecessary.

The security specialist saw where his attention lay and informed him, "They're going to build the wall higher."

He ignored her.

"What about the pteranodons, the pterodactyls, or whatever those things that fly are?" The question had come from Tucker Green, one of the Quasar Force officers.

"For the most part, they've been keeping to the northern end of the island," the corporal replied. "After the initial escape, they seemed to go to where they might roost in the wild—on rocky cliff faces over seafood-rich waters. They've also been known to take out a seagull or two."

"Didn't someone die because they were attacked by one?" A Netcop queried.

"They escaped their habitat after a helicopter crashed into their enclosure," the woman answered. "They were frightened and confused and yes, a few did swoop down on park guests, scaring them."

"Killing them?" the same Netcop persisted.

"There were injuries," the corporal said, "and then they all flew off to explore their surroundings."

The two Quasar Force officers glanced at each other knowingly. The woman would only answer questions the way her employer had instructed her to.

"How do you get a mosasaur from a mosquito?" the kid beside her suddenly asked. "They're aquatic. Where did the genetic material come from?"

"Maybe you should have gone with the other tour," she told him flatly.

"I heard it came from a tooth," Tucker told him. "They've been able to draw DNA fragments out of fossils directly. Not intact, of course, but enough to get started."

"So none of the animals are pure," the infuriating kid continued. "It isn't known if any of them looks, functions, or behaves like its extinct counterpart."

"They're still dinosaurs," the specialist countered. "Made from dinosaurs. They look an awful lot like the fossils."

He smiled at her like a shark. "Maybe _you_ should have gone with the other tour."

Her face went blank. She inwardly seethed. _Self-important little prick_ , she thought. _Probably some rich kid, knows more about video games than girls. Had everything in life handed to him._

He allowed a brow to rise up as his eyes narrowed at her. His head tilted slightly as his smile tightened. He held her gaze until she glanced away, her cheeks burning with unvocalized emotion.

Then he chuckled and nodded and tried to see what other specific animals he could sense.


	5. Chapter 5

5

"Owen isn't here," replied the thin young man with a shrug. "He's still out tracking his girl."

The trainer was supposed to've shown the group the velociraptor compound and given them tips on what to do if they happened to encounter the creature. Don DeBol, the security team captain flapped his arms in exasperation and pointedly raised his watch before his face. "These people came here to help him. What are they supposed to do now?"

"Well, don't kill her!" the assistant offered with a weak smile. "That's all I really know. She's the last trained adult we've got. He was hoping she would help train the next crop of juveniles."

"Where was she last sighted?"

The younger man shrugged again. "He has an idea of where she's been going for water, where she likes to sun herself, but-"

"You can show us the containment area," DeBol told him.

The kid looked surprised, then blinked several times. "Okay."

Corporal Beth Swanson took a few steps back from the group so she could scan everyone with her eyes. The troublemaker was missing. She repositioned herself a few times to be sure, then lagged behind when Owen's assistant led everyone to the training arena. Don happened to glance her way and she gave him a look of hard-bitten exasperation. He gestured for her to solve the problem and she stalked back in the direction they had just walked from.

Sure enough, a set of tracks had broken off from the other foot traffic and headed in the general direction of the trainer's bungalow. Beth was just able to glimpse the distant structure through the trees when movement to her left caught her eye and she very nearly drew down on the kid as he returned to the trail, zipping the front of his pants.

He smiled at her in that condescending way he had and said, "I'm sorry. Was there a restroom closer to the pen?"

She holstered her sidearm and hissed, "You have no right wandering off like that! Haven't you been paying attention to anything we've told you? There are man-eating dinosaurs out here!"

"Sorry, Mom," he said, trying to step past her, but she snagged him by the crook of his arm. "You will unhand me."

"You will be taking the next boat back to Baja," she told him.

"I will be taking a commercial flight to New York," he assured her, "but not today. " His grin grew malicious as the place where she gripped his flesh warmed. She suddenly discovered she was unable to release him. "You will return to the group and tell your superior I caught a ride back to my hotel room." Beth stared unhappily at the bizarre melding of their bodies, her fingers melting into his arm. "I wasn't feeling well, so you need to contact Dr. John Happenstance and let him know where I've gone. Tell him I caught a bit of food poisoning. Then don't think about me anymore."

Looking like she was on the verge of tears, Beth Swanson nodded dutifully, her face splotched with red. The strange young man gently gripped the end of her middle finger and peeled her flesh slowly from his. When he finished, the two of them remained intact and unmarked. The strange young man backed slowly off the trail, watching until the specialist seemed to've recovered from some sort of a fugue state, reoriented herself, then waltzed back in the direction she had arrived from.

The weird kid melted into the jungle and began the hunt.


	6. Chapter 6

6

Owen Grady knew the velociraptor knew he was in the vicinity. The loose Tyrannosaur had been easy enough to track. Injured and unused to expending much energy to fend for herself, she spent a lot of time resting as predators tend to do. The presence of humans agitated her, and being a very valuable asset to the park, the last thing anyone wanted to do was to cause her undue distress, so efforts to corral her had gone into setting up temporary perimeters around her and slowly closing them in, like a noose, to force the big predator to move back toward her own paddock. The work was slow-going and dangerous for she remained irritable while in a weakened state. She had the benefit of growing a little stronger on her own every day and the path back to her home was marked daily with huge chunks of fresh meat laced with antibiotics, but some of her nastier wounds seemed to be suppurating and were in need of evaluation by one of the park's specially trained veterinarians.

So Owen wasn't concerned about the big girl. She wasn't actively hunting and was nearly back in familiar surroundings again, but the raptor he had worked with since she was a hatchling, the big, intelligent one he'd named Blue, remained aloof, was clearly hunting despite her own injuries, and was far too smart to fall for the same trap they'd set for the rex.

He felt it was imperative that she return to him of her own accord. To capture her was to betray her trust, and that could potentially undo every hour of work he had spent on her. So he left his bungalow every day and tracked her, let her know he was prowling her territory, called to her, signaled to her, but didn't try to force her to do anything. They'd had two close encounters thus far, and neither time had she shown any inclination to reunite with him, but she hadn't tried to attack him either. He didn't need her thinking of him as prey. This was another reason he had insisted that he be allowed to try and lure her back alone. If she decided humans were weak and tasty, she would never show respect for him again.

Every day Owen went in search of signs of her and set up trail cameras in places she seemed to frequent. They weren't high-tech devices, but they did the job well. Fifteen of them now dotted an area just south of his bungalow and every day he'd catch a glimpse of her on at least one of them. She was curious about the noises and aromas coming from sections of the park that were undergoing repair. Without all the visitors, it didn't sound or smell quite the same.

Just because Blue knew him and had failed to attack him, didn't mean he could let his guard down. If anything he was in more danger than anyone simply by intentionally invading her perceived territory. He couldn't afford to let her smell his fear, to allow her to see him as anything less than her equal. So he remained on high alert as he settled in the crotch of a large tree perhaps eight feet from the ground, to drink Powerade from a sports bottle and eat jerky from a small plastic bag. She would likely be able to detect the tangy aroma of the dried and seasoned meat. Mixed with Owen's own scent, it would help re-establish her idea of him as a fellow type of predator.

What he did not know was that he was being stalked by yet another predator. Something new to the island. Something that failed to fear the nearby velociraptor.


	7. Chapter 7

7

Corporal Beth Swanson, Jurassic World security specialist, returned to the group to find them loitering atop the walkway over the raptor pen, leaning casually against the rails, asking questions. It was a while before Captain DeBol caught up with her. "Where's the kid?"

"Didn't feel well. He went back to his hotel."

Don looked at her for a moment, studying her features. "Who took 'im?"

She stared blankly back at him, unsure.


	8. Chapter 8

8

Nearly an hour passed before someone from the security team approached Dane Alten to relate the news. The man nodded slowly, unhappy, and went to find Dr. Happenstance preparing to enjoy a nice lunch.

"Your people have no idea where he went?" John asked after the situation had been described to him. He was unable to suppress a grin of pleasure.

"Please don't panic, Doctor. We only wished to make you aware of the situation. Would you have any idea where he might've gone, what he might be up to?"

"He's fine," the scientist replied confidently with a smile.

Alten returned the smile uncomfortably as he rested a hand lightly on the huge man's sleeve. "Please. Dr. Happenstance, what I need to make you understand is that we possess an entire team of lawyers-"

"If he kills or injures any of your precious dinosaurs, let me assure you that ArtReal will reimburse you for them adequately." With that, John departed swiftly for the gourmet buffet that had been prepared especially for the visiting scientists.

"Oh," said Alten softly, shaking his head woefully. "This is not good."


	9. Chapter 9

9

The creature was intrigued by the peculiar life form it had discovered. She could sense its warmth even at a distance of several yards, recognized it as an animal from its carbon signature, but was unable to detect any odor…animal odor, at least. It smelled of freshly disturbed soil, stagnant water, forest rot, with hints of plant sap and ocean breeze. It was shaped like Owen—that is, it appeared bipedal, had fur on top, with the flat, ovoid face of the Owen-like creatures, an infantile round head, short neck, with startlingly long forelimbs by comparison, a weak-looking wisp of a body, and ridiculously slender hind limbs with no tail behind them.

Blue knew they were tricky. Some were slow and stupid, asking to become victims. Some had sharp, chemical odors and squeaky-soft vocalizations. Some seemed only intelligent enough to avoid her. Others blundered along with something like confidence or perhaps more like a head injury, loudly startled when they abruptly realized how close they were to potential peril. Owen behaved more like herself, aggressive, pointing out opportunities in his odd clicking and brief gruff noises way, suggesting ideas that suited him more than her. Without her siblings, she found she missed the reassurance of his presence, but she was also excited to discover how easy it was to adapt to life without him.

This new thing before her was different, though. For one thing, it was unnaturally silent. It did not behave like the others who were of Owen's kind. She sensed something more like herself about it, and yet something very distinctly more like the man she'd known since birth. Its behavior struck her as far more predator-like than prey. The question was, did it pose any kind of a threat to her?

The intruder was intrigued by the velociraptor's mind. She was intelligent, for an animal. He recalled reading something years before, of how the big meteor strike most people attributed to the mass extinction of the dinosaurs had not killed them all off at once. In fact, there was evidence that numerous species had not only survived the cataclysmic event, but had continued to evolve. Allegedly, one of the very last dinosaurs to survive well into the beginning of the rule of mammals had been a velociraptor-like biped with long, well-formed forelimbs, unusually large forward-set eyes, and the largest braincase by size of any other dinosaur species. Therefore, velociraptors could possibly be comparable in intelligence to modern apes.

She did not think in words, of course, nor any kind of verbal language. Images formed in her mind only sufficiently for the pattern-seeking areas of her brain to make sense of them. Sharp sparks of recollection affected him—the scent of the human she was bonded with, the sound of his voice—although the only sound she seemed to form intact within her mind was a single soft syllable— _hblu,_ like a sudden, brief exhalation—which the observer guessed was the trainer's word for her. Her name. Interpreted by his own mind as something that sounded like _blue_ , despite the fact that she more closely resembled tree bark to him. Blue's own thoughts weren't any help—she did not associate Owen's oft-repeated sound with a color. It was along the lines of a person identifying a cat as an animal that says _meow_ despite the fact their vocabularies contain over a hundred different noises and sound combinations.

He knew she was thinking of the trainer because her mind was trying to form a connection between himself and the Jurassic World employee. He also knew she hadn't quite figured out what, specifically, he was.

Skin dappled like sunlight filtered through a leafy canopy, the stranger blended beautifully with his surroundings. So long as he remained still, he was difficult to discern at all to any creature that could perceive an entire spectrum of color. To an animal that saw only black and white, he was easier to pick out from his surroundings, although not by much. Wryly, he wondered how much of an attraction he would be and if people would be willing to pay to see what he could do. He didn't think of himself as a freak, however, and was leery of allowing himself to believe he was superior to anyone else. Sensing the animal was about to satisfy her curiosity, he leaped straight up suddenly, grasping low limbs so he could scramble quickly up into the nearest tree.

Intrigued by his movement, the velociraptor leaped, and while he was impressed with the height she achieved, he was able to discern that injuries kept her from her full potential as she landed awkwardly, falling a little backward and to one side before righting herself in order to keep him under surveillance.

Feeling safe, he stretched out above the animal like a leopard so he could better observe her. Nearly man-sized, but built much sturdier, armed with a serpent-like head full of needle-like teeth it could dart forward quickly like a bird from its longish neck, long hooked claws at the ends of startlingly human-like forelimbs. Like any predator, the creature was able to remain still for long periods of time, conserving energy for when it really needed it. Her body was well sculpted with lean muscle beneath a hide that looked like it should be stiff, but moved with obvious suppleness. Her design suggested a runner, a jumper, and something that should be able to somewhat navigate tree limbs.

As he allowed himself a slight smile of appreciation, he became aware of the other presence as a flash of satisfaction hit him. He closed his eyes until he was able to see from the newcomer's point of view. Opening his eyes slowly, he gazed down at the raptor and was able to determine from which direction the newcomer observed.

The man could not see the oddly marked stranger on the tree limb and was unaware that the velociraptor was calmly biding her time to see what the creature above her might do. He assumed she was aware of his proximity and had paused to see if he would attempt to approach her or not.

When the animal finally took notice of the fact that someone else had joined the party, she raised her head and froze in place, muscles tense as she waited for scent to assail her. The creature above her grew perfectly still, unwilling to make her more nervous by dividing her attention. The odor caught by her nostrils formed messages in her mind of the man who communicated through clicks, sharp vocalizations, eye contact, sudden gestures. In her mind she heard an echo of the sound he made most in her presence, _"Hblu, hblu."_ A part of her was curious of his motives, and another part found him mildly irritating. She didn't care for him to approach too close. She was concerned he would redefine her territory for her again, and she rather preferred the freedom to roam and explore.

The entity in the tree observed the man. He moved slowly with caution and confidence, but was unaware that his movements made the velociraptor anxious. She anticipated an attempt at communication from him and believed he would try to coerce her into abandoning the fun she'd been having. He represented both security and boredom, abundance with the price of restriction. He challenged her mentally, which she found both stimulating and tedious. The Jurassic World employee looked tall, thickly built, with a youthful face, somewhere in his mid-thirties. Looking at his pale, somewhat flat features, the youth on the tree limb guessed at some German ancestry, maybe a little Irish. He approached nonchalantly, his gaze lingering on the animal only long enough to ascertain she was still paying attention to him, then pretended he was more concerned with a large, colorful leaf, a butterfly, a huge spider web, as he perambulated in her general direction.

The stranger was amused. He could sense her impatience. Annoyed, she was prepared to leave. He cleared his throat.

She had forgotten him for a moment, and at the unexpected sound of his voice she flinched badly, then pranced uneasily beneath the tree, looking up toward his hiding place.

Owen's heart throbbed at the base of his throat. Was there someone else with them? Afraid for the safety of the unknown other, he tentatively called, "Hello? Is there someone there? Are you armed?" The kid allowed his camouflaging pigmentation to fade slowly. It still took a little while for Owen to spot him. "Stay where you are! Don't move!"

The antsy animal took note of her trainer's gestures. She wondered what he might ask of her in exchange for a treat.

"I'm unarmed," the youthful-looking fellow called from where he continued to stretch calmly along a limb like some jungle cat.

The velociraptor's attention flickered between the two humans.

Owen continued his approach, every step deliberate and slow, right arm stretched out, palm upward like the tail of a fleeing deer, the left gesturing for the animal to hold her position.

"Did you bring treats?"

The trainer's brow drooped a little toward the bridge of his nose. "Could you not distract us?"

"You'll get close, but you won't catch her."

Grady opened his left palm, directed it at the stranger as the tips of his fingers jerked back and forth, pleading for silence and patience.

One step too close, too much distraction, a dinosaur unwilling to relinquish her freedom just yet. Blue launched herself forward and skedaddled out of sight. Owen repeated her name ineffectively. His left fist clenched while his right hand smoothed his sweat-damp hair back. Abruptly, a scrawny teen dropped beside him, straightening to reveal a pale, lean-muscled body clad in only jungle camo print swim briefs. "Who are you?" Owen growled testily.

The kid stretched forth a long-fingered hand. "Weaver Roglitz."

The trainer's gaze swept past the hand. "What the hell are you doing out here? Where did you come from? Don't you know this place is dangerous?"

Weaver let his head loll a little to the right as a smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Don't you know that trapping her outright so you could tend to her injuries would outrage her—exactly as you suspect—but would in fact actually strengthen her perception of you as a stronger, smarter alpha?"

Bent at the waist, eyes wide as he shook his head, hands out away from his body, Owen tried, "Who the hell _are_ you?"

"I'm an agent of StarNet, an astrobiologist with ArtReal."

Owen flopped his left palm upward near his face. "So?"

"I deal with aliens, Mr. Grady. Some easily as big and scary as your dinosaurs."


	10. Chapter 10

10

They walked through dense jungle. The day was humid, but breezes filtered frequently through the undergrowth and between pools of shadow shot through with dazzling shafts of light. The soil was dark from ancient volcanic activity, the flora lush, colorful, and often cupping cool water that dripped or poured upon them if they disturbed the right leaves. Insects—mostly beetles—flew, crawled, and leaped about. They saw frogs and toads, geckos and other small lizards, butterflies, dragonflies, and a handful of small birds more easily identified by their songs than quick sightings.

"It's breathtaking," gushed the enamored Weaver Roglitz, who longed to ditch his companion and explore freely like the velociraptor. "Here, away from all the touristy-crap," he added.

Owen inhaled deeply through his nostrils. "You're insane."

The kid chuckled. "You have no idea what I am, sir." He turned to smile at the other man who had intentionally turned away.

"We have a loose velociraptor, a loose Tyrannosaurus rex, and a few dozen loose pteranodons and dimorphodons who may now associate humans with meat."

Weaver shrugged, brushing a dangling length of vine out of his way. "Your T. rex is injured, her location is well-known, and she is being slowly corralled back into her paddock. Your raptor is injured, hungry, and will likely return to you on her own within the next couple of days. Your loose flyers seem to have taken a liking to the cliffs at the north northeast end of the island where they roost when they're not hunting the southern half of the island in the morning and late afternoon."

"How long have you been here?"

"Few hours."

"There's no way you could have observed all of that in just a few hours."

"The flyers prefer fish, small reptiles, and seagulls to humans, though I wouldn't put it past them to hunt larger prey during mating season. If you had monkeys or lemurs on the island, I wouldn't be surprised if they'd add them to their menu along with medium-sized snakes."

Owen said, "You can't know that much about dinosaurs based upon our data alone or even from reading the works of paleontologists."

"I have an advantage you don't," the kid said, stepping up over a soft, moss-covered rotting log.

"Space aliens?" Owen asked sarcastically.

The kid glanced upward for a moment. "That's one way you could put it."

"Let's say I believe you. It still doesn't explain why you're out here alone, unsupervised, playing Tarzan in your underwear."

"I didn't want to startle anyone if they came across me naked."

"You see," the trainer said, shaking an upraised index finger, "that's the kind of talk that makes me question your sanity."

"I don't have to be sane," Weaver told him. "I only have to be quicker and smarter than anything I encounter."

Around a small rock outcropping they saw the back end of an older-model four wheel drive pickup truck. "Let's get you back with your group-"

"My supervisor knows I'm out here. He's authorized this. I'm going to help you get all of your dinosaurs back."

"Authorized through whom?"

"Masrani Global. They agreed to allow us out here while you're trying to clean up."

"Aw, great," Owen groused, approaching the vehicle. "Like they really have a handle on things-"

Weaver moved toward the passenger side. "I suspect all they know comes in the form of media interpretations, loss of money, and lawsuits."

"Insane, but smart," Owen allowed, plugging himself in behind the steering wheel.

"You don't get where I am in StarNet by being cautious and stupid."

"Pardon me for noticing, but you're just a kid."

"Then you haven't noticed much," Weaver replied.

"Okay. You're also foolish and annoying."

The pale stranger only smiled beneath the overhang of his long bangs.

Owen expected him to ask where he was taking him, but the younger guy seemed lost in thought as he watched the gorgeous scenery move by. He'd decided to return to his bungalow and contact security about the scrawny little trespasser.

"I think Blue has a possible mild greenstick fracture of her right ulna, she exhibits two broken toes, four broken claws, and a kink in her tail I'm betting she didn't have before…" he could have completed the sentence, but decided to do a little digging instead, "she was injured…by some other animal? Not the T. rex I'm guessing. A fight between them wouldn't have resulted in a draw, so something…T. rex sized?"

"Oh," said Owen with irritation, "you didn't hear about our newest star attraction? The genetically modified monster? Until the day she escaped, neither had I!"

"Island's not that big," Weaver pointed out.

"You're telling me. I was shocked they'd been able to keep a secret like that from so many people."

Weaver considered. "But an animal that size…it would take years to reach maturity."

The trainer cut his eyes toward his passenger. "You don't think they tweak hormones or anything, do you? Like they do chickens and pigs to get them market-sized in record time?"

Weaver closed his eyes. "Oh, no…increased heart disease, cancer rate-"

"They're dinosaurs," Owen reminded him. "Space aliens get heart disease and cancer?"

"You don't get into astrobiology without some kind of background in biology, zoology, veterinary science-"

"How old are you?"

"Older than I look."

"You did arrive on the island with more clothes, right?"


	11. Chapter 11

11

At his bungalow not far from the beach, Owen encouraged Weaver to shower and laid out some items of clothing he though should fit him. He discreetly phoned security and eventually learned that yes, the peculiar kid from StarNet had somehow finagled full island access insomuch as it allowed him to assist in the capture of any of the loose dinosaurs. "But who authorized this? Why wasn't I kept in the loop?"

"Masrani Global," he was told. "You're not security. You're not in the loop."

He'd had a long discussion with Claire before she'd departed for an African safari to "reconsider her priorities" as she'd put it. They'd agreed there'd be no more big secrets kept from him. No work-related ones anyway. "One of the very rare and very valuable animals I work with is endangered because some kid who, obviously, has never worked around dinosaurs is actually running loose through the park in his underwear."

The security chief sounded distracted. "Yeah. That sucks."

"That _sucks_?"

"I'm sorry, sir, what?"

"Half naked kids? Running loose in the park?" Owen heard the ambient background noise change like someone was trying to smother the phone's transmitter with his hand. It sounded like he was trying to eavesdrop on distant conversation through a conch shell. If he could have taken Blue with him, he would have quit his job and bought himself a nice, secluded ranch with a velociraptor compound in Nevada so he could continue working with her without the interference of people who only saw her as a meat-eating cash cow.

"Mr. Grady, sir? Have you acquired the asset yet?"

Every time he heard a living animal called that he winced. "Give me another day or two."

"Can you have it contained within the next twenty-four hours?"

"Twenty-four hours?"

"We've just received orders to allow some representatives with the United States government to collect all of the raptors."

Grady instantly pictured military vessels waiting offshore, men in camouflage preparing to hunt Blue. "Who ordered this?"

"Richard Wiesner, Masrani's Chief Operating Officer."

He relaxed his arm and the phone moved away from his ear. Owen stopped breathing. His eyes took on a murderous cast, but focused on nothing in particular. His lips remained slack as he paled and his body hair began to rise.

"Guess I showered for nothing," said the younger man as he stood in a doorway wearing drawstring cargo pants, a T-shirt featuring a design of a T. rex also wearing a T-shirt, rubbing a towel over his damp, dark hair.


	12. Chapter 12

12

Owen did not need an inexperienced stranger to make the situation worse, but he'd had little choice but to throw himself inside the passenger seat of the old work truck he'd procured a few years back for his own personal use when the kid rushed outside and climbed into the driver's seat, attempting to drive off without him.

"Pull over!" he yelled. "Stop the truck _now_!" He reached for the controls, but Weaver caught his left wrist and without seeming to do anything further, rendered the larger man's entire arm useless. "What did you do to me?"

"Shut up and hold tight," the kid grunted, navigating the terrain like he was extremely familiar with it. When Owen drew back to throw a punch with his functional right arm, Weaver jerked the truck into a sliding spin, allowing centrifugal force to throw the man off balance. The vehicle skidded over crushed vegetation, fishtailing as he sought to regain control with his left hand, his right gripping Owen's limp left arm. The Jurassic World employee slumped bonelessly, sliding down in his seat. Weaver braked the vehicle, then busied himself buckling the guy into his seat belt and shoulder harness. "You're unharmed," he snarled in irritation. "I need you to observe the jungle so I don't make a wrong turn off a cliff or something. We're going to get Blue. I know where she is."

"Did you feed her a tracking device or something?"

Weaver smiled sadly at him as he floored it, the wheels spinning uselessly for a moment until they'd thrown up enough pulpy flora to uncover the rocky soil beneath. The truck bit raw earth and surged forward.

"How do you know what's going on?" Chin on his chest, head rolling side to side with the vehicle's motion, Owen guessed, "You're with them! You were sent here to find her so they could take her! You're here to keep me distracted!"

"We're going to get her, hide her, and heal her," Roglitz grumbled.

" _We_ , you and _me_? Or, _we_ , you and your platoon?"

"Not military. I deal with aliens."

"Like that sounds more believable?" He noticed a particular tree up ahead and knew the path to the left of it was impassable after a huge tree had fallen across it a few nights ago. The vehicle jerked right, bouncing down a rough slope before landing on a better dirt road. It led back to the raptor compound. Weaver spun the wheel and the vehicle sprayed a beautiful rooster tail of dust as he braked, then another full of larger chunks of matrix as he accelerated again in the opposite direction.

"You can read minds or something."

"Nah. I'm just real good at what I do."

"I didn't say that out loud."

The kid looked at Owen and blinked in surprise before he burst into laughter. "Keep watchin' the road, Dino-boy. The show only gets better."


	13. Chapter 13

13

Owen found he was slowly regaining control of his body. His limbs felt like they weighed a ton each and his movements were laughably slow. He eventually managed to push himself into a more upright position, his head straight, but supported by the cushioned headrest behind it. He didn't feel drugged. His mind remained clear. He had no idea how the kid had incapacitated him.

"She's close," Weaver said, scanning the landscape. They were stopped at the edge of a small, grassy meadow encompassed by trees. "She's hunting. Or, she was until she heard us. Now she's waiting." He touched Owen's left arm and said, "Drive so I can leap out and grab her."

Grady laughed so hard and so abruptly he snorted, but discovered his movements were now unimpaired. He snatched his arm away and stated, _"No."_

"Time is of the essence."

"I don't know what you are, who you work for, who trained you-"

With a scowl, the kid flung himself from the driver's seat and hit the ground hands-first. He vanished so quickly Owen scrambled to see where he'd gone to, but lost time quickly throwing the truck into park when it started to move of its own accord. He spied a shape zipping across the tall grass like a cheetah, its long form undulating in a manner no human could hope to achieve, with born animal grace and impossible speed. He whipped out his phone to grab a picture, but all he got was a blur. _Aliens_ , he thought. Was this Weaver guy one?

He climbed into the driver's seat and drove into the clearing, hoping to follow. Just for a moment, had the guy's neck been bent at a funny angle? His legs strange-looking within the baggy pants he'd loaned him? He had never seen an alien before. He'd heard there were a few on Earth, but their movements were regulated, their access restricted. StarNet was some kind of a policing military-esque group, privately owned and run, that helped ensure peace between the alien visitors and the native species. They wouldn't have an alien working for them. Conflict of interest. Or, had he had his nose buried in dinosaur behavioral studies for so long that he was unaware of all the current goings-on in the world beyond Isla Nublar?

An experienced tracker, he could still see the path the weird kid had taken. Then he caught sight of an aircraft in the distance. Squinted until he was certain they were helicopters. Recognized them as CH-53E Super Stallions. He saw he could not reenter the forest where the kid had and wasted time seeking passage for the vehicle. Once he had a navigable path, he drove slowly, no longer certain where the kid had gone. He dialed Claire and tried to ascertain the time difference before she answered.

"Owen?"

"Claire—do you know anything about the military moving in here to take my raptors?"

She hesitated. "Not since Victor Hoskins. What's going on?"

"They're here right now. Why are they here, Claire? Who made a deal with them?"

"Have they acquired any of our animals?"

He liked that she'd acknowledged they were life forms rather than mere amusements. "No. I don't think so. But it's happening right now."

"Let me call somebody," she said and disconnected.

Realizing he had no idea where he was going, he stopped the truck and opened the driver's door. Standing on the inside edge, gripping the door frame, he listened. The kid had indicated he'd thought they were close. He assumed he'd hear the excited squeals and squawks of the animal tearing the nutcase apart.

A bark of sound back toward the clearing, and several startled birds broke for unobstructed air. Owen dropped into the seat, started the engine, then backed rapidly out of the shadows. He paused at the edge of the clearing. Heard the peculiar growls of a velociraptor—the wooden-like staccato she produced from deep down in her throat. He parked and jumped out of the vehicle, running toward where he thought they might be.

He was at first shocked and then outraged when he saw the kid trudging toward the clearing dragging the body by its tail. Owen charged the kid, who looked puzzled as he halted. The man leaped as he drew back, prepared to devastate Weaver's face, but the kid dropped backward in anticipation of the blow and rolled away, popping up suddenly on his feet like an acrobat several feet away.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" he yelled, palms forward, bent at the waist in an attitude Owen recognized as one he used with the raptors. He might've chuckled if he hadn't been so angry.

" _Did you kill her?"_

"What? _No!_ I used the same trick on her I did on you. She's okay. She's fine! Calm down, man! We got her!"

Owen dodged to her side, dropping to his knees so he could examine her. Eyes mostly closed, she breathed easily, her pulse calm. "You _tranquilized_ her?" he shouted, pushing back up onto his feet so he could loom over the younger man.

Weaver displayed his empty palms again. "I didn't use anything on her! Just the…the thing I did to you."

"My heart was racing! Why is she so calm?"

Backing away from the bigger guy, Weaver tripped and sprawled at his feet. "I put her to sleep-"

"You _what?!"_

"No! Not like that! I just dropped her metabolism, slowed her heart rate-"

"With _what?"_ He'd bent to seize the kid by the front of his T-shirt and partially lifted him so he could rearrange his face if he felt so inclined.

Weaver slapped a hand over Owen's wrist and the man bonelessly submitted to gravity. "You're so high-strung," he groused, crawling out from under him. Ignoring the helpless trainer, he returned to the animal so he could drag her to the waiting vehicle, then drove it back so he could gather the man. "Are you going to cooperate, or do I have to render you unconscious, too?"

Face-first in the grass, Owen mumbled, "I will kill you."

"Okay. Your choice," Weaver said, bending over him.

As a shadow fell across him, Owen changed his tune. "I'll behave, I'll behave! Just…explain to me what's going on here. This is too weird. I'm having trouble processing it." He felt warm fingers brush the back of his neck.

"Get up."

Relieved to be able to unknot himself from his uncomfortable position, he rose to his knees and loudly exhaled. "What _is_ that? Some kind of Star Trek nerve pinch thing?" He reluctantly accepted the hand that was offered and was surprised by the strength the smaller male used to draw him up with.

Weaver contemplated. "Well, the science-fiction angle would be accurate, but no. Not quite like that."

Looking toward the vehicle, Owen asked, "No pharmaceuticals? She's okay, then?"

"I comprehend your concern. She's completely new to veterinary medicine. No, I'd never attempt to drug her. She's perfectly fine. Sleeping like a baby."

Owen stared at the heavily bleeding gashes he hadn't noticed before. "What did you do? Tackle her?"

The kid looked down and seemed nonplussed by the spreading red stains he wore. "Pretty much. Drive us back to the compound."

"That's the first place they'll look. You need medical attention."

"I know, to the first," Weaver said, loping toward the passenger side, "and I'm okay, to the second."

"I still question your sanity," Grady told him, easing into the driver's seat.

"My pedigree is the only odd thing about me," Weaver assured him.

"At least your blood isn't green."


	14. Chapter 14

14

Claire called back. "It's Masrani's shareholders," she said by way of greeting, sensing Owen's urgency. "The park is hemorrhaging money every day it remains closed. They made a deal with the military because they said the raptors aren't a draw anyway."

 _"Yet,"_ Owen repeated, frustrated. "I was still working with them-"

"And feed, veterinary care, and everything else is being wasted on creatures that like to hide in underbrush or lay on rocks, sunning themselves."

"But predators are known to conserve their energy so they-"

"And people get bored and complain about vicious animals that aren't acting vicious."

He gritted his teeth. "I just need more time-"

She responded, "To start over again with another generation?"

"I still have Blue."

She sighed loudly. "A deal has been reached. It's out of my hands. Please don't interfere, Owen…you need to keep your job."

A little too loudly, a little too forcefully, he said, "Goodbye, Claire," and terminated the call.

Weaver pointed ahead. There were people in uniform and park vehicles parked around the bungalow. "Slow down," he said, and scrambled out the door of the still-moving vehicle and into the rear of the truck.

Heart pounding, he had no idea what Roglitz was up to. Was he about to literally hand Blue over to the military? Had this all been a trick? Panicked, he slowed further still, wondering if he should throw the truck into reverse and go to ground, but dread forced his hand when he noticed another park vehicle coming up fast behind him. A heaviness in his chest made his breath catch. His nostrils flared as his mind raced through scenarios where he somehow fought his way out of the mess and escaped, or was forced to watch as his last velociraptor, whom he'd known since her hatchday, was taken away. Armed personnel stepped toward the trail as he neared his place. He braked and reluctantly put the vehicle in park.

"Keys," commanded a clean shaven guy in black BDUs.

Owen chunked them down into the open, gloved hand that awaited them. In the rearview mirror he could see Weaver's head and upper body and began to resent him as a traitor. As soldiers bristling with weaponry closed in around him, one approached the rear of the truck and addressed the Roglitz kid. Owen heard him say something about, "cripple it for bait," then saw a dark form rise limply as it was displayed for the commanding officer.

The guy looked dubious and several others stepped forward, including one of the park veterinarians. Heads shook, looks of disgust and frustration were exchanged, and then Owen's keys were dropped through his open window. He dug them out from where they'd slid down to his crotch, and watched in hopeful bafflement as the soldiers and park employees climbed back into vehicles and began to drive away.

Weaver beat on the side of the pickup. "To the compound, Jeeves."

Confused, Owen started the vehicle and drove onward slowly.

There was evidence of a recent visit in the mandala of tire tracks peppered with boot prints in front of the large structure. The compound had already been searched and cleared. Owen backed the truck up to a fortified gate that surrounded the small side building that served as storage, a monitoring area, and short-term veterinary care facility. He stopped on his way to open the gate. There was no velociraptor in the back of the truck. Weaver Roglitz knelt beside a juvenile parasaurolophus.

"Where's Blue?" Owen blurted in agitation.

"Right here. Undercover. In disguise."

"Disguise? That's an entirely different animal!"

"No." The kid shook his head and smiled gently. "This is her. This is Blue. They had no interest in a sick parasaurolophus. I told them we were going to use her as bait to catch the loose velociraptor."

Utterly perplexed, Owen reached tentatively toward the snoozing animal and touched it. It was not an exact copy of the parasaurs on the island, but was still passable. But how could it possibly be Blue? This was an herbivore with short, blunt digits on the ends of chubby forepaws, a rounder, deeper body, the bill-like formation of the broad, flat snout…the thick, knobby crest that rose backward from the skull. "This can't be Blue."

"You have to trust me on this one," Roglitz said softly. "I know you don't actually trust me at all-"

"The teeth are completely wrong! The claws!"

"Calm down! I'm on your side. This is your pretty girl. She's going to remain like this until these cretins leave."

Shaking his head, Owen protested, "But they won't leave until they have what they paid for."

"I have an idea," Weaver told him with a crooked smile. "Can I borrow your phone?"


	15. Chapter 15

15

Dr. Jonathan Happenstance was standing in the central control room watching a demonstration of all of the technological capabilities the very up to date facility possessed. His phone alerted him to an incoming call by playing the song "Amanda" by the band known as Boston. One of the Quasar Force officers standing near him smiled in surprise, then drew his fellow officer aside to explain what the joke was. John cleared his throat and answered his phone. "Doc Happenstance."

"Weaver. Can you get some dignitaries on the island, pronto?"

"Aliens?" he asked softly, maintaining an outward appearance of boredom with a hint of embarrassment.

"I know it's last second, but there are military troops lurking around the jungle and I need to get them out of here."

"Troops?"

"Some idiot cut a deal with the U.S. They're selling velociraptors to them for use in battle."

John turned away from the nearest possible eavesdropper to ask, "Soldiers…riding dinosaurs into battle?"

"Trained attack animals," Weaver explained, amused by the image in his mind of a guy in camouflage mounted on a pachycephalosaurus, carrying a bazooka.

"I see. But, Weaver?"

"Sir?"

"We are not here to interfere with park business."

"But-"

"We are invited guests, and some of us have talents that may be useful to these people while they pick up the pieces after a devastating…malfunction. If they wish to sell off their…assets, then that is entirely their business, not ours."

Weaver sighed, stunned. He'd assumed John would've played along. He uttered a final, "Thank you, sir," before cutting the call and handing the phone back to Owen.

"What would getting dignitaries here do?"

"Except for responses to direct acts of aggression, no branch of the United States military may conduct operations utilizing armed personnel in any region or place designated specifically for the use of visiting alien dignitaries. It's to help prevent misunderstandings that could accidentally lead to interstellar war."

"Huh," said Owen, noticing how tired and almost sickly the younger guy looked.

Weaver sighed again.

"I would have liked to have seen a real, live alien."

They carefully unloaded what still appeared to be a juvenile parasaurolophus from the bed of the truck and laid her in a temporary holding cell within the structure located at one corner of the compound.

"When will she wake up?"

"When I allow her to."

"Can't she run around like this?"

Weaver asked, "How would you do if you woke up from a nap in the body of an orangutan?"

His eyes sparkled. "Could you make me a velociraptor?"

The kid drew an arm to his middle and Owen was shocked to see how far in the bloodstained T-shirt went. "Sorry. I'm a little weak now. Do you have any meat around here?"

"Meat?"

Weaver nodded. "I lost mass transforming her. I need to eat to regain my shape or make myself smaller to compensate."

"There's a refrigerator full of meat over there, and we also keep a supply of livestock to feed the predators."

"Of course," the kid said, looking toward the chest-style refrigeration unit located under a small window reinforced with rebar as he eased himself down onto the concrete floor. Owen could see how the fabric looked more like a deployed parachute pooled around him than clothes. "There are five islands. At least one would be reserved for providing food for the animals."

"Can I…can I see…what you look like? I mean…if it's okay to ask."

Although he despised revealing his condition, Owen knew enough already to strongly suspect there was something bizarre about him, something perhaps less or maybe more than merely human. He reached to grab the end of the borrowed shirt and slowly drew it upward. "There are other animals on the other islands, though? More velociraptors?"

The man's eyebrows lifted and his mouth formed an o. "…uh…raptors? Uh, yeah…what are you?"

"I'm a…sort of a…telepathic shapeshifter."

"Tele-telepathic?"

"You're thinking of telegraph," he said. "Do I telegraph my abilities to other…animals? To other people? " He raised a hand and splayed the fingers. "And yes. I can. Through touch."

"Are you…are you genetically, like, in a laboratory-"

"Scientifically enhanced? No. I was…I was born this way."

"But, then…you're like a mutant or something?"

"A mutant…yes. A mutation. An aberrant. A hybrid."

"Hybrid of…?"

Weaver reached back and pointed at the refrigerator. "Could you heat something up for me? Just, y'know, to at least ambient temperature? Please?"

"Does she need food?" the man asked, turning as he moved away so he could keep the hybrid in sight.

"She needs nothing. She'll be fine for days. They won't be here that long. There _are_ velociraptors on another island?"

"Wow." Owen grinned to himself and shook his head. "Yeah. There are embryos in stasis, embryos being incubated inside sterilized emu eggs, some juveniles on Isla Sorna where they raise them to maturity, and then the uh…the throwbacks…."

"Throwbacks?"

"From the park that was here before," Owen said, finally looking away to rummage through the cold food selection. "What do you need? Like a ham hock? A whole turkey? Maybe a little mutton?"

Weaver propped himself up on his elbows for a better look at his emaciated body. "You got, like, sixty pounds of some kinda meat with some bones in it?"

"You're kidding me," Owen began, then told himself worriedly, "Oh, my God. No, you're not. You're not."


	16. Chapter 16

16

"So the throwbacks are the inbred remains of the first regeneration of velociraptors?"

Owen blinked in amazement, watching what was clearly not a human being devour copious amounts of warmed animal flesh, bones and all. "They think the amphibian DNA they used to fill the gaps in their makeup gave them the ability to switch genders when faced with extinction due to the presence of only female animals."

"I thought that was found to be a byproduct of exposure to certain pesticides and other poisons," Weaver said, nodding. "In some species animals assumed to be female were actually late-developing males, or parthenogenesis has been observed in virgin, captive snakes. Or…the animals may have originally been hermaphroditic, with alphas growing larger than the rest of the pack and assuming the role of the male that mates with everyone else. "

"Oh, sure." Blue was the alpha of her pack, larger, smarter, and far more aggressive when she believed she needed to be. Owen's forehead wrinkled in consternation. He had asked Weaver if he could observe while he replenished his lost mass. He'd assumed the kid would remove his shirt, but he'd stripped back down to the camo swimwear again. The trainer wasn't quite brave enough to touch him. "But their numbers remained insufficient for survival. They began to die off after a few years due to lack of genetic variety."

"They would have started evolving, though," Weaver persisted between swallows of disgustingly large hunks of unchewed pork. "Or devolved, perhaps. They would have begun to look a little different with each successive generation as the dominant DNA began to replace the patches science had created. But, no…perhaps it was only the result of severe inbreeding-"

"They maintain them as a control," Owen told him. "New females are introduced every so often in an effort to stabilize the pack."

"But they'd still be inbred," Weaver argued , without any idea how many velociraptors it took to maintain a healthy colony, nor how often nature had originally designed them to take in new females from other packs, or to replace breeding alphas. As with any predator, their numbers within any given range would have been small compared to the number of prey animals required to sustain them. But, how large was a raptor's range? How often did they need to hunt? If the island itself was an average range size or smaller, then it was possible that the animals had begun to die off simply because there were too many of them for the amount of available resources.

"You are absolutely fascinating…and gross," Owen told him with a weak, but friendly smile. "But you're wrong…DNA from other sources, other regions of the Earth, have provided some fresh material as well as new species for the park to experiment with."

"But even if you'd identified a sample as a raptor…would it be the same type?"

"Do you mean like…a breed of raptor?"

"I mean, if you were trying to recreate dogs…say dogs were long extinct and all we had were fossilized bits and bugs in amber…the DNA is identified as canine…is identical to that of wolves, their immediate ancestor…so you'd be making mutts, and by allowing them to breed-"

"You'd eventually end up with a wolf," Owen finished. "Or, the closest thing to it."

"Which means you have an island with the closest thing to a genuine velociraptor on it."

"You follow this stuff well," Owen admitted. "Did you study biology, genetics-"

"Veterinary medicine," Weaver answered automatically, and then his eyebrows pointed downward over the bridge of his nose before a look of strange realization illuminated his face.

"You don't look old enough to've gone through twelve years of veterinary school."

He lowered his greasy fingers as his eyes widened but remained focused on something from the past.

Owen listened. There was nothing in the room to see that should cause anyone to look like that. He heard nothing extraordinary. "You okay? Is this part of your…metabolism-"

"Gimme your phone again," Weaver said.

"You have a better idea than aliens?"

"No. I'm just grasping at straws, but let's see what I uncover."

The trainer stood and grabbed a wad of paper towels for the younger fellow. Realizing his state, Weaver stood and went to wash up at a convenient sink before accepting the towels to dry himself with. Then Owen handed him his phone. It still held enough of a charge for a few brief calls.

He tried to recall a specific sequence of numbers, and unable to come up with a minimal amount of digits, he realized he shouldn't be trying so hard. The odd memories had to emerge unbidden as they always had, like bubbles rising unexpectedly from the floor of a swamp. Memories of attending veterinary school. Memories of a life he had not lived. Someone else's memories. Someone else's life. "Distract me."

"What?"

"I need to…to see if I can remember something. I can't think about it intentionally. So, you don't seem quite so upset about possibly losing the other raptors."

Owen shook his head. "Wait—what? You need to remember something, so you don't actually want to think about it?"

"Change the subject," Roglitz insisted with a hint of panic in his voice. "How 'bout them Mets, huh?"

Confused, the raptor trainer displayed his palms and grimaced. "Okay…okay…so tell me, what are you?"

Weaver had drawn the torn and bloodstained shirt back on. "Three-quarters alien?"

"Really. Huh. Okay. So, what sort of alien?"

"The, uh, the telepathic shapeshifting kind."

"Of course," Owen nodded agreeably. "And as a hybrid, you only have some of their powers, their abilities, or whatever?"

"No," he replied, stretching like he was going to morph into a giant bat or something. He only stretched and yawned. "I seem to possess all of their abilities. The problem is the part of me that's still human…I have memories of someone else's life."

Owen still wasn't sure whether to believe the guy or not. He uttered a short, breathy chuckle. "Sure. And whose memories are they? And why? Why do you have somebody else's memories?"

"He…he died. And-oh." He whipped the phone up and quickly punched in a number. It rang and someone with a heavy accent answered. The voice wasn't familiar. It sounded like he might've awakened the guy. He'd suspected he'd misdialed anyway. Disconnecting, he frowned.

Owen prompted, "Some guy died and-?"

Weaver tried altering a single digit. The phone rang. "Uh, right. This guy, this guy was a veterinarian. He worked for StarNet. He was killed in an accident. And my father-"

"Darth Vader?" Owen didn't get the reaction to that he had hoped for. He tried again, "Your father is an alien?"

"Pretty much." He let the phone continue to ring.

"Pretty much? Is he three-quarters, half, or what?"

"He started out human-" A woman's voice interrupted. He pressed the phone to his ear.

"World Acquisitions and Traders, LLT."

"I…," he began, uncertain what to say. "I need help."

"Your name, sir?" She sounded warm, friendly, comforting.

"Uh…my name is Weaver…Roglitz."

A pause. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't have a Weaver Roglitz listed anywhere. Perhaps the number you dialed is incorrect?"

She didn't immediately cut the call. He tried, "My name…my name is…Geoff…ery. Geoffery. Geoffery Jason…McKenna."

Another pause. Weaver shifted his feet nervously. "I see… _Doctor_ McKenna. We'll get someone out to you immediately."

"Right. I'm on an island…" he trailed off, looking at the screen. The call had been terminated from her end. "I didn't tell her where I am."

"Who is Geoff McKenna?" asked Owen. "Your father, or the guy who died?"

Looking a little pale, the kid swallowed and answered quietly, "I guess… _I_ am."


	17. Chapter 17

17

They turned up at Central Control, Owen fuming because he couldn't get a boat so he could hit any of the other islands. Someone high up in security was sicced on him. "I'm sorry, Owen, but so long as the military is here conducting operations, any requests to travel between islands or the mainland must go through them."

He grabbed Weaver and drew him down a hallway and into a stairwell. "Can't you do anything?" he whispered hoarsely.

Weaver could travel anywhere. His abilities allowed him to journey through the air, underwater, or even underground, but in this situation he risked exposing himself to too many people. StarNet should not employ aliens—not even hybrids like himself. The rare few shapeshifters allowed on the planet were carefully monitored to ensure they didn't attempt to blend in with the population to enact nefarious deeds. It was easy enough to dispute the claims of one alleged witness, but should numerous individuals testify that they'd seen him grow fins or wings or what have you, it was a little more difficult to keep things under wraps. He couldn't take on an entire platoon of armed soldiers anyway—he could probably thwart the operation on his own, but then there would be inquiries and they'd only ship in more men until the job was completed. His mind flashed to the T rex. It would take massive amounts of matter to keep shifting her form to suit his needs. The mosasaur…now _that_ had potential! If she abruptly crawled on shore like a sea turtle, slow but immense and deadly…but he'd have to dispose of her when he was through with her. The park scientists would want to study her to figure out how she'd managed to escape and crawled about on land. Extra safety precautions would be taken to protect visitors, or, more likely, there was a chance she'd be destroyed because of the new danger they'd think she posed. He couldn't turn her loose in the ocean…. He was thinking of the pteranodons when Grady seized his muzzle in his rough hand.

"Can you help me or not?"

Weaver, eyes wide, shook his head as best he could with the bigger guy gripping his jaw.

Owen released him. "I can't do anything. I can't stop them. Can't you figure out a way to get to the other islands? Change all the raptors into other things?"

"Like fluffy bunnies?" Weaver asked, rubbing at the flesh of his lower face. "Yes. Sure I can, but they have a head start on us. If I changed the animals they have already, there'd be questions."

"I'm being stopped by questions?"

"Owen, they'll just send more soldiers. They'll see there's some kind of trick. All the animals have tracking implants, right?"

"It would look strange if all the bunnies in the park had tracking implants assigned to raptors."

"There's too much involved," Weaver said, just as frustrated, but without Owen's emotional edge. "At best I could just drag this out, but odds are they probably already have a few animals in custody. You still have Blue," he reminded him.

"I thought the worst day of my life was a couple of weeks ago," the larger man said, pressing his fists against the nearest wall. "But I was wrong. Blue," he said. "We should get back to her. She has an implant, too."

With a crooked smile, Weaver nodded and trailed the man downstairs.


	18. Chapter 18

18

Because Weaver assured him it was safe to do so, they brought Blue to Owen's bungalow. The trainer watched in amazed apprehension as the tracker implant oozed from the animal's hide into Weaver's waiting palm. He handed it to him and told him not to lose it so he could embed it again later, then removed his other hand from the animal's flank after disconnecting his flesh from hers.

"Someone's gonna know something's up when they find out she's still here."

"They'll consider it a military error. I doubt they'll return for just one more animal."

Owen sat on the floor beside his raptor. His back was to his sofa. She was propped comfortably upon a folded blanket. "I keep imagining them wearing little camo vests with drab American flag patches, lasers or something strapped to their heads."

"The military has used and experimented with a lot of animals over the years. They often abandon a lot of projects. Animals simply aren't robots."

"Aliens, dinosaurs, and robots," the older man chuckled tiredly. "That'd be one hell of a theme park."

"That's why we restrict where aliens can travel and forbid interaction between them and any militaries."

"But it happens. You know it happens. I mean, look at you. Your group is para-militant and you…well, you…."

"We consider ourselves para- _policing_. We work most closely with local police agencies and NASA."

"Yes, but you…you don't belong there."

Weaver had no reply. He couldn't take his eyes away from the beautiful creature lying before him, even if she wasn't in her natural form. "I…I have memories…something to do with this place…and…a chicken."

Owen laughed. "A chicken. A big, T. rex sized chicken?"

"No. A chicken-sized chicken. Or maybe…it was a little dinosaur…."

"Most dinosaurs were roughly chicken-sized," the Jurassic World trainer told him. "But who wants to travel to see a theme park full of little lizards?"

He thought of the mosasaur again. "That big one in the tank-"

"Don't even think about her. Let's not go there. They've been searching for something bigger and more impressive to draw the crowds. She's a star attraction. And I…I've had my fill of her."

Weaver's eyebrows rose briefly. He knew he could become aquatic, hunt to increase his mass, shift into something similar, attack the vessels waiting offshore to ferry the velociraptors away. Then there'd be headlines and a massive hunt for an escaped monster, people would panic. He shook his head and gestured to the girl on the floor. "Was she cute when she was little?"

"In her own way. Like E.T. was cute. Cute and ugly. They were terrible to handle. Like all reptiles, they were pretty self-sufficient at birth. Quick as greased eels. All needle-teeth and stiletto claws." He held up his hands, fingers spread. "See all these scars? That's mostly from just playin' with 'em."

Weaver held up his own flawless hands. He remembered scars. He remembered the veterinarian, Geoff McKenna's scars.

"Could you turn me into a raptor?"

He smiled. "Yes, but why? You wanna let yourself be captured, then show 'em how smart you are?"

"A velociraptor that can unlock doors and handle a firearm." Owen's eyes were bright as a child's as he fantasized.

"The military would pay plenty just for _you_."

The dreamy look faded. "I'd spend the rest of my life with no pants on."

Weaver shrugged. "Works for Donald Duck."

"Would I be able to talk any?"

"I could modify your vocal cords, make your mouth more mobile so you could articulate all of your syllables and consonants."

"Can you become other people?"

"Yes."

"What are your limits? I mean, what can't you do or be?"

He considered. He hadn't actually attempted to mimic every living creature, but he finally responded, "I don't think I could do very small things well. I'd lose too much brain to retain all of my thoughts, my reasoning skills, language, memories…. I mean, I might be able to pull off an ant or a flea, but I doubt I'd be anything more than that for the rest of my life."

"Do you have a normal lifespan? I mean…like a human or…."

"I'm not sure. Our kind has a problem with offing itself. We're close to extinction. I actually think that's for the best."

"You mean, like lemmings? You commit suicide?"

"No. We tend to kill each other. " He saw Owen yawn and could sense his fatigue. "It's a really long, screwy, complicated story."

Owen's phone rang. He answered it and looked pained by what he heard. "Okay. Thanks. Okay," he said before ending the call. He inhaled and looked at Weaver, who looked downward. "You're really telepathic. You know what they just told me."

"They're satisfied with the number of animals they've acquired. Getting ready to depart. Told you to take the day off tomorrow."

"That's amazing," Grady said, letting his shoulders hunch as the emotional impact of what was happening beat upon him like a sudden, torrential rain.

Weaver got on his hands and knees and crawled over to the defeated man's side. "You still have Blue," he reminded him softly, patting his wrist as he manipulated brain chemicals, slowed the man's heart and respiratory rate, and eased him into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

19

Although he didn't require sleep, Weaver enjoyed succumbing to it to refresh his body and reset his mind. One of the trademarks of the alien species he was three quarters of was the absence of dreams. But Weaver dreamed. He dreamed of another life from another time, he dreamed the memories of his father, he dreamed of lurking in dark, hot swamps hunting for things that once lived on another, far away world, long, long ago.

Two sounds awakened him. It took him some time to determine they had come in on very low frequencies—the sorts of sounds elephants were capable of making and hearing outside of human range. _Impacts_ , he thought, and then, _no, explosions_. Maybe a nearby power transformer had blown, a large tree had fallen, part of a cliff face had collapsed, or perhaps a distant storm was drawing near. He lay still and listened for a very long time, noting that the nocturnal jungle animals on the island were only slowly resuming their nighttime songs. So other animals had heard it, too. He was relieved to know it hadn't been a mere fragment of a dream, but this knowledge only made him more curious.

Owen murmured soft syllables in his sleep, his breathing deep but uneven as he reacted to something in a dream. Weaver placed a hand on the dinosaur's forelimb and merged his flesh with hers enough to check her vitals. She was a little dehydrated, so he transferred some of his fluids to her directly. Touching her in this manner allowed him to sample some of her DNA. In the future he'd be able to shift himself into a velociraptor at will, as close to perfect as she was. This was why he'd only been able to disguise her as a flawed parasaurolophus—he'd had to rearrange her form via memory instead of what he thought of as a genetic imprint.

He eventually left her for the kitchen. Owen had told him that the island had its own wells and he found the water to be exquisitely cold and delicious. He poked around the refrigerator for orange juice and drained an open carton. Refreshed, he wiped his lips on the back of one forearm, then opened the back door and allowed the balmy night to roll over him like a gentle ocean wave.

He stripped, leaving the soiled clothes in a pile by the back step, and then took a few jogging steps toward the forest. He intensified his night vision, his sense of smell and hearing. He willed the chemistry of his sweat to alter enough to befuddle the bounty of mosquitoes.

It wasn't a swamp, but it felt close to home. He leaped and swung and jumped and ran, allowing himself to become a primal thing that reveled in the tropical night. As he'd suspected, most of the animals were active. Most of the animals on Earth were nocturnal and the dinosaurs proved no different. He ran for some time, adjusting his heart rate, his air intake, his core temperature for maximum endurance. He ran until he came upon a small waterfall and stood gazing at the pool it filled, wondering if it was deep enough to safely jump into.

"Geoff."

His blood chilled. A human voice, so unexpected, and speaking that particular name. He turned slowly until he noticed a short, dark haired woman with an athletic build smiling at him. She closed her eyes and psychically projected friendship, comfort, and warmth to him. Stunned, he thought at first he should mentally shield himself, then chose to remain neutral. She already knew who he was and what he was.

"I don't think we've met," he said slowly.

"We've met," she assured him, stepping forward to offer him a hand in greeting. Her grip was pleasantly firm, dry, and warm. "We just wanted to let you know that the animals are safe and no one should be bothering the people here for a while."

He blinked, thinking. "I called you."

"Yes."

"Who are you?"

"We're like you. We have been for a very long time."

"Like me. You're aliens."

She nodded, a few strands of her straight black hair lifting behind her on a soft, warm breeze. "We didn't know if you'd remember us or not." He could see she appeared Asian in the dark, perhaps Polynesian.

"Then…you've known who I am all along."

"We've…tried to keep tabs on you…discreetly."

"I'm an agent of StarNet now."

"As you have been for a very long time," she told him. "But you're still an agent of ours…and have been for far longer."

"That was Geoff."

"You are Geoff."

"I am Weaver. Weaver Roglitz."

"In our language you have another name still."

He felt peculiar. Weak as water. Strong as rock. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're going to be a very rich man, collecting two paychecks." She had a pretty smile.

He felt warm as he clutched her hands. "Tell me what happened." She was as telepathic as he was, so he didn't need to clarify the question.

"We assembled a team and got here as fast as we could-"

"From where?"

"Some islands. Not far. We picked up the military transmissions and sent an agent aboard one of their vessels to gather reconnaissance. Once we realized what was happening, we knew to stop it. Your background with animals…well, it was obvious what would be bothering you the most."

He exhaled uneasily. It was weird to have a stranger know so much about him.

"We had some of our agents shift into the shape of the animals they were collecting, told them to put up a fight, but to allow themselves to be captured. Once on board, we became what we needed to in order to sabotage their mission and escape."

"I heard explosions."

"We minimalized the casualties."

"But, some people died?"

She said, "We gave them plenty of warning. Most abandoned ship when things went haywire, a few ended up in the water. It wouldn't surprise me to hear that a pod of friendly dolphins happened to come along and save them."

"Friendly dolphins," he repeated softly, one eyebrow raised. "So now they send another ship or two? Keep trying until they succeed?"

Her grin widened. "I think they'll report that the animals they tried to transport were far more intelligent and a lot less controllable than they had anticipated."

Somewhere an animal he could not identify bellowed and another, farther away, returned the call. "So they'll probably try again another day."

"Not for a long while," she said, brushing an errant strand of hair away from her face. "The Russians shut down their military animal training program. I'd say there's a good chance the Americans might before long, too."

He finally allowed himself a slight, grim smile. "Thank you."

The female took a step nearer and told him, "Your employer has always wanted to meet you."

He grew uncomfortable. "That was…a different guy."

She moved a hand to his bicep and he braced himself against her possible physical intrusion. "We had to wait for you to come to terms with who you are. You actually endured a death, but your personality has been reasserting itself."

"Who wins?" he asked, pulling away from her, mindful of how close he was to the drop-off that would end in a bath. He was afraid she'd influence him through touch the way he had the security specialist earlier.

"You feel torn between identities, but we feel you will grow comfortable with your situation…enough to function as a new personality influenced by who you were before…" she told him. "No one's seen or experienced exactly what you're going through. It's sort of the opposite of what Alex endured, and yet very similar…."

He winced. He knew what Alexander Roglitz had gone through. Some of the memories that intruded upon his thoughts were from his life. "Alex changed-"

"Of course he did. And you will, too."

"He ran off with his partner."

"And you will find them and bring them back."

"What?"

"Let's call him your next big acquisition."

"You want me to hunt him?"

"Who better?"

Weaver grew defensive. "And what do you want with him? His partner, right?"

"It isn't me," she said, squatting to watch the falling water seem to glow faintly as it frothed where it met the pool below.

"So, who is this guy I've been working for behind the scenes all these years?"

"When you're ready," she told him, rising and turning away. "We'll let you know." With that, she bounded gracefully into the darkness with the fearlessness of a Viking berserker and the speed of a gazelle.


	20. Chapter 20

20

On his way back to the bungalow, Weaver pulled on the clothing he had worn upon his arrival to Isla Nublar and stashed not far from Grady's place. He checked on Blue, entered the small kitchen for some water, drank several glasses, then returned to nudge Owen awake.

"Mm-huh?" The man said, striving for alertness in the shortest time possible. "What happened? Is she alright?"

Weaver squatted beside the disoriented guy and smiled. "I think it's over. I think we beat them."

"Who? We beat someone?" Sleeping in a slumped position on the floor left him painfully stiff and sore. Sensing his discomfort, the kid placed a hand on his forearm. Owen felt his flesh warm. Shortly thereafter all of his aches and pains left him. "What happened?"

"The people I called? They came through. They sank the vessels they sent to take the raptors away in. It's over. We won."

"Wait, what?" He drew a leg up and leaned an elbow against it.

"The people I called-"

"The ones who told you your name is Geoff?"

"Yes. They showed up. They, they…well they tricked them. The soldiers. Made them think they'd captured dinosaurs, but they didn't, and then they sank their vessels."

"Are they dead?"

"No. I don't think so. Some might've got hurt, but I don't think anyone's dead."

"How did they make them think they had raptors?" he asked, gripping Weaver's arms. The kid looked flustered. He breathed through his mouth and felt tense beneath Owen's large hands. "They're…they're like you, aren't they?"

Swallowing, he nodded as the man released him.

"Then why didn't the military just back off? If they're all aliens or whatever? Or…do they have to be full-blooded for that to work?"

Weaver rocked slowly back onto his butt. "It only works…if it's known they are aliens."

"Do your people know? The StarNet group?"

He shook his head slowly. "Only Dr. Happenstance knows about me."

"So this is hush-hush. I can't say anything about it—about you—to anybody."

"Please."

"Wow," he said. "There were aliens here." He smiled, his left thumb pushed against the side of his bottom lip. "Do we have to pay them for this?"

"No. It was a favor."

"So then, it's between you and them."

Weaver nodded.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Owen remarked.

"I…I've seen my future," the younger man muttered softly.

"So we can return Blue to being Blue?"

"Not until I know for certain no one from the military is lurking around. I heard there were lifeboats involved."

"Ah. They may land here until transportation arrives." Owen stared fondly at his misshapen girl. "What about the money that was exchanged?"

"I was told they severely underestimated the capabilities of excited velociraptors and, and lost them all themselves."

The trainer allowed himself a slight smile. "None of your people hurt?"

"My people," he sighed, "are naturally amphibious."

Owen's eyes widened. "No way." He chuckled. "I would love to see that!"

"Hush hush," Weaver reminded him.

The larger man nodded. "Do you think you could arrange it so…so maybe I could-"

"We'll see," the alien hybrid told him.


	21. Chapter 21

21

They turned up at one of the park restaurants for a buffet-style breakfast of scrambled eggs, French toast, bagels, bacon, sausage, sliced ham, grits, biscuits with gravy, hash browns, fresh fruit, coffee, milk, and juice. They were the first to arrive and chose a table by a window with a view of the sadly empty, quiet theme park.

"It's awesome that you stayed," Weaver told one of the servers who was busy bringing out trays of hot food, warm syrup, and chilled butter. "Very brave."

"I don't think we'll be here doing this much longer," the guy replied. "Our parent company is afraid the park won't open again."

Roglitz looked at Grady as the server moved away to greet some construction workers who'd arrived as a group. "You need money just to keep the animals alive and healthy."

"I don't know how much the US government just lost, but we'll probably run through it in no time."

"The only things that are actually keeping the park from being open right now are the loose T. rex and flyers."

"And a hell of a lot of bad press."

"I dunno," Weaver said optimistically, "adds a little excitement to the place."

"Adding a little excitement is how things went south to begin with," the full human replied.

"What else could be done with the place? I mean, let's be honest, a theme park full of giant, murderous monsters was never the brightest idea."

The trainer sighed. "It's an amazing idea, but things happened too quickly for the wrong reasons." He speared some eggs and sausage, wrapped them in a thick slice of French toast, folded it into a fat bundle that his fist barely encompassed, then proceeded to devour it in true, efficient, military fashion.

"I've always been opposed to adding rides to zoos," Weaver admitted. "Bad enough the animals are stressed as they are, but to add screaming people, annoying loud music, and the strange noises rollercoasters and things make…."

"You think that's bad," Owen told him after a mouthful of black coffee, "they were letting little kids pet and ride the dinosaurs."

"They what?"

He nodded, swallowing. "Saddling up baby herbivores for kiddie rides."

"But hardly anyone knows enough about these animals—I mean, even a newly discovered species doesn't usually end up in a petting zoo that fast. Good God. You don't know all of the pathogens that could pass between human and reptile-"

"They're engineered pure like lab rats."

"But, still!" Weaver persisted, horrified. "One kid eats a hot dog after riding some reptile, forgets to use the hand sanitizer…. What about things passed to the animals from us?"

"There was talk," the trainer mentioned, "of maybe opening this place up as a high-end hunting preserve."

"But, this is science! How could they?"

"Believe me, there are plenty of rich a-holes out there willing to shell out big bucks for a triceratops mount or a photo with a dead rex."

"That's revolting! That's so incredibly wrong!"

Some of the construction workers had taken notice of the outrage at the table by the window.

Owen rubbed his thumb tips against his closest two fingers in a gesture vaguely similar to that of someone milking a tiny cow. "Big, big money, though. Figure a billion dollar bounty on a rex at least."

Upset, Weaver poked at his breakfast.

"At one point we were contacted by Universal Studios. They were thinking about building a dinosaur-themed area inside their parks to rival Disney's Animal Kingdom."

"Great. Dinosaurs in populated areas of the mainland. Just brilliant."

Owen lifted a slice of bacon and bisected it with his teeth before adding, "We've even had a couple of very high-end celebrity chefs asking about dinosaur meat and eggs."

"All these years mankind has sought the meaning of life when he hasn't even learned the value of it yet."

Nodding, Owen chewed.

"Delightful. You have options, then. Did I just help you save your animals for no reason?"

"You did the right thing."

"Or have I just helped make things worse down the road?"

"Dino-soldiers. That's not happening now."

" _Now,"_ Weaver repeated. "Who knows about later?"

One of the construction workers drifted to their table side after refilling at the buffet. "We're still here, Mr. Roglitz, if you need us."

He blinked in surprise at the group, who appeared to ignore him. "Oh. Great. Yeah. They have a T. rex that needs veterinary care and a handful of loose pteranodons. Can you help us round everybody up?"

"Easy. We'll help reinforce their containment, maybe put some suggestions in the right people's heads, make sure things don't get this haywire again." With a grin, the man returned to his comrades.

Owen whispered, "Did he just say, 'put suggestions in people's minds'?"

"Uh, yeah."

"You can do that?"

"Um…yeah."

"You didn't mess with my mind, did you?"

"No."

Owen didn't know if he should believe the alien hybrid or not, but things seemed to've turned out for the best, so what if he had messed with his mind a little? "I was hoping I'd get to meet an alien," he said softly, staring at the other occupied tables.

"Sorry they're not eight feet long with flippers and horns."

"Be harder to pull all this off if they actually looked like aliens, I guess."

"You ever stop to think that maybe the asteroid that struck the Earth and killed off all the dinosaurs was really a huge spaceship, and we're all just the descendants of the aliens that survived the crash?"

" _Now_ you're messing with my head," the trainer accused good-naturedly.


End file.
